


Spank Me

by casophon



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, PWP, Pre-Series, Spanking, college-era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 16:03:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3984217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casophon/pseuds/casophon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt on the kinkmeme.</p><p>Matt loses a bet and has to wear a sign on his back that says "Spank Me" around campus. It's not like Foggy actually expected people to <i>do</i> it, or that Matt would <i>enjoy</i> it. Like, really, <i>really</i> enjoy it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spank Me

  
"Read it and weep, Murdock."  
  
"Impressive."  
  
"You haven't read it yet!"  
  
"No, I meant the pure saturation of smugness in your voice just now."  
  
"I deserve to rub it in a bit. You doubted me every step of the way."  
  
Matt already knows Foggy isn't lying about his grade, but gamely plugs in his headphones to Foggy's laptop to listen to the synthesized voice read the transcript. He still can't help but sigh when it reads out  _A565 Human Trafficking, 4.0_.  
  
"You put a description of your favorite kind of donuts in every essay," Matt says in disbelief. "This should not have happened."  
  
"I told you he doesn't read them," Foggy says with barely contained glee. "Now you have to uphold your end of the deal!"  
  
"What are you going to do?"  
  
"I'm going to make you a little accessory," he says. The air is filled with the noxious fumes of a sharpie. Foggy draws something out in his chicken scratch before nodding to himself. "You're going to wear this tomorrow. That's the deal."  
  
Matt raises his brows. "Do I get to know what I'm wearing?"  
  
"A piece of paper," Foggy replies, just this side of holding in laughter.  
  
"And what is  _on_  the piece of paper?"  
  
"I'll tell you... at the end of the day tomorrow!" he crows. Matt can't help but smile, too; Foggy's childish excitement is infectious, even if it probably doesn't bode well for his end of the deal.   
  
Matt shrugs. "Okay, a deal is a deal. I trust you didn't put anything  _too_  weird."  
  
"Me, weird?  _Never_."  
  
\----  
  
It starts with the  _clack clack clack_  of overpriced pumps on the path behind him and the smell of department store perfume. Marci, he thinks, wondering what she could want with him. He slows his gait a bit to allow her to catch up, but before he can turn to greet her, she says, "Don't mind if I do!" and gives him a firm smack on the ass.  
  
He's shocked into silence, whatever he was about to say dying in his throat, leaving him gaping like a fish. Marci cackles and  _clack clack clack_ s back the way she came.  
  
He and Marci had never really gotten along, but he tolerated her as his best friend's on-again off-again girlfriend (mostly off-again-for-real-after-tonight-I-swear), and she mostly ignored him if not forced to interact, and it works. She must be in a good mood to fool around with him; she and Foggy must have finally made up after their last spat. He rubs at a twinge in his chest that definitely isn't jealousy.  
  
He puts it out of his mind until it happens twice more - he's pretty sure the next time was that girl from his constitutional law study group, but he has no idea who got him on his way into his morning lecture hall - and he finally makes the connection between the stinging on his ass and the sign on his back.  
  
_Very funny, Foggy_ , he thinks, chuckling to himself a bit and shifting in his seat. He wonders if Marci knew, or Foggy ever thought other people would actually take him up on it.  
  
He finds it harder than usual to concentrate, mind constantly shifting to the pain which has settled into a gentle throb after the events of this morning, and is relieved when the buzzer finally rings. In his rush to gather his things he doesn't even hear the next smack coming; the hand was small, timid, and it barely even registered as more than a pat. The owner of the hand scrambled away, giggling, calling back to him, "Thanks for the invitation!" Down at the podium, the elderly professor grumbles to himself about impropriety.  
  
It's only 11 o'clock; he several more hours until Foggy will be back at the dorm to release him from his end of the bet. He's fairly certain the red on his face is going to be there to stay until then.  
  
It's not just embarrassment making him blush, which is almost the worst part.   
  
Word has, apparently, gotten around fast; no less than five people run up to him as he walks the 10 minutes from his lecture hall to the cafeteria. The sixth claps a hand on his shoulder instead.  
  
"Lose a bet?"   
  
"Yeah," he admits, relieved that whoever this person is, they at least have a bit of sympathy.  
  
"Rough," she says, then promptly spanks him and runs off to join the others.  
  
His hand tightens around his cane. He can feel his own breath coming more rapidly, now, and a bead of sweat trickling down his temple.  _C'mon, Murdock, this is not the time to discover new things about yourself._  
  
He very purposefully chooses a seat against the wall while he eats, and leaves out one of the side entrances of the cafeteria. But he still has another class today, and once outside, it's apparently open season on his ass again. He loses count by the time he finally, gingerly, settles onto the bench for another two-hour lecture.  
  
When the lecture ends, there are fewer people on campus, but as he approaches the dorm he can hear the laughter and people daring each other to go for it; a few of them do and he waves them off with forced good humor and continues to make a beeline for their room.  
  
His ass stings to the point of burning, and he hasn't been this inappropriately hard in public since puberty.  
  
Foggy startles at his desk when Matt bursts into the room, something clattering to the floor. "You okay? Holy shit-"  
  
He tries to picture for a moment what it must look like to Foggy, for Matt to barge into their room, red-faced and panting, obvious erection tenting his jeans.  
  
Matt tosses his cane aside and finally rips the sign off his back, throwing it to the floor as well. "Foggy -"  
  
"I'm- I'm sorry, I didn't think - did people actually - " Despite his concern, Foggy is  _definitely_  interested. Matt can smell the musk of him already, can practically feel his frightened-rabbit pulse in his own veins as he yanks Foggy out of his chair and kisses him.  
  
He's known the attraction has been there since the first day they met and Foggy stumbled his way out of an obvious come-on. But Foggy's always been off-limits for a myriad of self-imposed reasons he  _doesn't really care about at this moment._  And clearly, neither does Foggy. He hesitates for only a moment before responding with the same enthusiasm he puts into everything else: roving hands all over Matt's body, carding through his hair, breathing heavy through his nose and nipping at his lips.  
  
And it's far too soon when Foggy breaks apart, holding him by his shoulders. "Not that I'm against this, but what-"  
  
"Just- fuck, I need-" Matt grits out, pulling Foggy back to him while walking them both to the nearest bed and falling on top of him.  
  
He knows he should be embarrassed - it isn't like him to be this wanton - but he has essentially spent the day in the longest session of foreplay ever and isn't in the mood to waste any more time.  
  
He lets out a gasp when Foggy brings a hand down his back to rest on his ass momentarily before giving him a careful, uncertain smack, and outright moans when, emboldened, the next strike is significantly firmer.  
  
"You are... something else, Matt, christ," Foggy murmurs, voice husky, as he fumbles with the buttons of Matt's shirt before yanking off his own tee. His fingers hesitate at Matt's belt. "Is this okay?"  
  
Matt's face is still buried in Foggy's neck, mostly to muffle the obscene sounds he wants to make, so he nods instead.  
  
Foggy inhales sharply once he shucks off Matt's pants and boxers all at once. "How many times did... ? You're all red," he says thickly, running a palm over the abused area.  
  
"Too many," Matt says, fumbling with Foggy's pants button. The jeans fall to the floor with the rest of the discarded clothing. "Do it again. Harder." Foggy's cock gives an interested twitch at the request. He can practically taste the salt and slickness at the end of his own, getting thicker with each smack, and he can't help but reach down and stroke himself once, twice.  
  
"Let me," Foggy says, pulling him up on on the bed and snaking a hand between them. Matt does the same, though the angle is foreign and he can't move much now that they're pressed together, but Foggy's breath is quickening into soft pants and his hips begin to stutter against him all the same.  
  
Matt comes first, surrounded by the slick sounds of their hands, the heat of his skin, the phantom taste of semen in his mouth. Foggy follows soon after, leaving them both breathing heavily and a rapidly cooling sticky mess between them.  
  
"Ugh, really?" Matt tries to complain when Foggy wipes his hand against Matt's hip, but he can't help but laugh which ruins the effect.   
  
"So," Foggy says after a pause for basking in the post-orgasmic glow, "I don't think I regret putting that sign on you any more."  
  
Matt hmms under his breath. "Did you ever?"  
  
"Yeeeah, no," Foggy confesses.  
  
"It's okay," Matt assures him, "I'll get my revenge."  
  
The sudden spike in Foggy's heart rate could be either apprehension or excitement; Matt secretly thinks it should be a little bit of both, considering what he's already cooking up.

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt fill: http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/1296.html?thread=1514768#cmt1514768


End file.
